Sugar Man, won't you hurry 'cause I'm tired of these scenes. For a blue coin, won't you bring back all those colors to my dreams? Silver magic ships,… - Sixto Rodriguez

My pocket don't drive me fast,
my mother treats me slow,
my statue's got a concrete heart
but you're the coldest bitch I know.
In the factory that you call your mind:
graveyard thoughts of stone.
A master thief, I wouldn't enter there,
you've nothing I would care to own (so help me).

Born in the troubled city
in rock and roll USA
in the shadow of the tallest building,
I vowed I would break away.
Listened to the Sunday actors
but all they would ever say:
That you can't get away from it.
No you can't get away.
No you can't get away from it.
No you can't get away.

Now you sit there thinking. Feeling insecure.
The mocking court gesture claims there is no proven cure.
Go back to your chamber, your eyes upon the wall.
'Cos you got no one to listen, you got no one to call.
And you think I'm curious.
Drifting, drowning in a purple sea of doubt
you wanna hear she loves you
but the words don't fit the mouth.
You're a loser, a rebel-a-cause-without.
But don't think me callous.